THE WALLOO
In perfect stillness, except for the sound of the dipping of the
paddles in the water, we glided away very swiftly up the placid river.
I think that nothing upon this strange journey, or at any rate during
the first part of it, struck me more than its quietness. The water was
still, flowing peacefully between its rocky walls towards the desert in
which it would be lost, just as the life of some good old man flows
towards death. The rocky precipices on either side were still; they
were so steep that on them nothing which breathed could find a footing,
except bats, perhaps, that do not stir in the daytime. The riband of
grey sky above us was still, though occasionally a draught of air blew
between the cliffs with a moaning noise, such as one might imagine to
be caused by the passing wind of spiritual wings. But stillest of all
were those rowers who for hour after hour laboured at their task in
silence, and with a curious intentness, or, if speak they must, did so
only in a whisper.
Gradually an impression of nightmare stole over me; I felt as though I
were a sleeper taking part in the drama of a dream. Perhaps, in fact,
this was so, since I was very tired, having rested but little for a
good many nights and laboured hard during the day trudging through the
sand with a heavy rifle and a load of cartridges upon my back. So
really I may have been in a doze, such as is easily induced in any
circumstances by the sound of lapping water. If so, it was not a
pleasant dream, for the titanic surroundings in which I found myself
and the dread possibilities of the whole enterprise oppressed my spirit
with a sensation of departure from the familiar things of life into
something unholy and unknown.
Soon the cliffs grew so high and the light so faint that I could only
just see the stern, handsome faces of the rowers appearing as they bent
forward to their ordered stroke, and vanishing into the gloom as they
leant back after it was accomplished. The very regularity of the effort
produced a kind of mesmeric effect which was unpleasant. The faces
looked to me like those of ghosts peeping at one through cracks of the
curtains round a bed, then vanishing, continually to return and peep
again.
I suppose that at last I went to sleep in good earnest. It was a
haunted sleep, however, for I dreamed that I was entering into some dim
Hades where all realities had been replaced by shadows, strengthless
but alarming.
At length I was awakened by the voice of Issicore, saying that we had
come to the place where we must rest for the night, as it was
impossible to travel in the dark and the rowers were weary. Here the
cliffs widened out a little, leaving a strip of shore upon either side
of the river, upon which we landed. By the last light that struggled to
us from the line of sky above we ate such food as we had, supplemented
by biscuits of a sort that were carried in the canoe, for no fire was
lighted. Before we had finished, dense darkness fell upon us, for the
moonbeams were not strong enough to penetrate into that place, so that
there was nothing to be done except lie down upon the sand and sleep
with the wailing of the night air between the cliffs for lullaby.
The night passed somehow. It seemed so long that I began to think or
dream that I must be dead and waiting for my next incarnation, and when
occasionally I half woke up, was only reassured by hearing Hans at my
side muttering prayers in his sleep to my old father, of which the
substance was that he should be provided with a half-gallon bottle of
gin! At last a star that shone in the black riband far above vanished
and the riband turned blue, or, rather, grey, which showed that it was
dawn. We rose and stumbled into the canoe, for it was impossible to see
where to place our feet, and started. Within a few hundred yards of our
sleeping place suddenly the cliffs that hemmed in the river widened
out, so that now they rose at a distance of a mile or more from either
bank flat, water-levelled land.
These banks, which here were steep, were clothed with great,
dark-coloured, spreading trees of which the boughs projected far over
the water and cut off the light almost as much as the precipices had
done lower down the stream. Thus we still travelled in gloom,
especially as the sun was not yet up. Presently through this gloom, to
which my trained eyes had grown accustomed, I thought that I caught
sight of tall, dark-hued figures moving between the trees. Sometimes
these figures seemed to stand upright and walk upon their feet, and
sometimes to run swiftly upon all fours.
“Look, Hans,” I whispered—everyone whispered in that
place—“there are baboons!”
“Baboons, Baas!” he answered. “Were ever baboons such a size?
No, they are devils.”
Now from behind me Issicore also whispered,
“They are the Hairy Men who dwell in the forest, Lord. Be silent, I
pray you, lest they should attack us.”
Then he began to consult with the rowers in low tones, apparently as to
whether we should go on or turn back. Finally we went on, paddling at a
double pace. A moment later a sound arose in that dim forest, a sound
of indescribable weirdness that was half an animal grunt and half a
human cry, which to my ears shaped itself into the syllables,
_Heu-Heu!_ In an instant it was taken up upon all sides, and from
everywhere came this wail of _Heu-Heu!_ which was so horrid to hear
that my hair stood up even straighter than usual. Listening to it, I
understood whence came the name of the god I had travelled so far to
visit.
Nor was this all, for there followed heavy splashes in the water, like
to those made by plunging crocodiles, and in the deep shadow beneath
the spreading trees I saw hideous heads swimming towards us.
“The Hairy Folk have smelt us,” whispered Issicore again, in a
voice that I thought perturbed. “Do nothing, Lord; they are very
curious. Perhaps when they have looked they will go away.”
“And if they don’t?” I asked—a question to which he
returned no answer.
The canoe was steered over towards the left bank and driven forward at
great speed with all the strength of the rowers. Now in the space of
open water, upon which the light began to shine more strongly, I saw a
beast-like, bearded head that yet undoubtedly was human, yellow-eyed,
thick-lipped, with strong, gleaming teeth, coming towards us at the
speed of a very strong swimmer, for it had entered the water above us
and was travelling down-stream. It reached us, lifted up a powerful arm
that was completely covered with brown hair like to that of a monkey,
caught hold of the gunwale of the boat just opposite to where I sat,
and reared its shoulders out of the water, thereby showing me that its
great body was for the most part also covered with long hair.
Now its other hand was also on the gunwale, and it stood in the water,
resting on its arms, the hideous head so close to me that its stinking
breath blew into my face. Yes, there it stood and jabbered at me. I
confess that I was terrified who never before had seen a creature like
this. Still, for a while I sat quiet.
Then of a sudden I felt that I could bear no more, who believed that
the brute was about to get into the boat, or perhaps to drag me out of
it. I lost control of myself, and drawing my heavy hunting-knife—the
one you see on the wall there, friends—I struck at the hand that was
nearest. The blow fell upon the fingers and cut one of them right off
so that it fell into the canoe. With an appalling yell the man or beast
let go and plunged into the water, where I saw him waving his bleeding
hand above his head.
Issicore began to say something to me in frightened tones, but just
then Hans ejaculated,
“_Allemaghter!_ here’s another!” and a second huge head
and body reared itself up, this time on his side.
“Do nothing!” I heard Issicore exclaim. But the appearance of the
creature was too much for Hans, who drew his revolver and fired two
shots in rapid succession into its body. It also tumbled back into the
water, where it began to wallow, screaming, but in a thinner voice. I
thought, and rightly, that it must be a female.
Before the echo of the shots had died away there rose another hideous
chorus of _Heu-Heus_ and other cries, all of them savage and terrible.
From both banks more of the creatures precipitated themselves into the
water, but luckily not to attack us because they were too much occupied
with the plight of their companion. They congregated round her and
dragged her to the shore. Yes, I saw them lift the body out of the
stream, for by this time I was sure from its hanging arms and legs that
it was dead, an act which showed me that although they had the shape
and the covering of beasts, in fact they were human.
“Elephants will do as much,” interrupted Curtis.
“Yes,” said Allan, “that is true. Sometimes they will; I have
seen it twice. But everything about the behaviour of those Hairy Men
was human. For instance, their wailing over the dead, which was
dreadful and reminded me of the tales of banshees. Moreover, I had not
far to look for proof. At my feet lay the finger that I had cut off. It
was a human finger, only very thick, short, and covered with hair,
having the nail worn down, too, doubtless in climbing trees and
grubbing for roots.”
Even then with a shock I realized that I had stumbled on the Missing
Link, or something that resembled it very strongly. Here in this
unknown spot still survived a people such as were our forefathers
hundreds of thousands or millions of years ago. Also I reflected that I
ought to be proud, for I had made a great discovery, although, to tell
the truth, just then I should have been quite willing to resign its
glory to someone else.
After this I began to reflect upon other things, for a large jagged
stone whizzed within an inch of my head, and presently was followed by
a rude arrow tipped with fish bone that stuck in the side of the canoe.
Amidst a shower of these missiles, which fortunately, beyond a bruise
or two, did us no harm, we headed out into mid-stream again where they
could not reach us, and as no more of the Hairy People swam from the
banks to cut us off, soon were pursuing our way in peace. For once,
however, the imperturbable Issicore was much disturbed. He came forward
and sat by me and said:
“A very evil thing has happened, Lord. You have declared war upon the
Hairy Men, and the Hairy Men never forget. It will be war to the end.”
“I can’t help it,” I answered feebly, for I was sick with the
sight and sound of those creatures. “Are there many of them, and are
they all over your country?”
“A good many, perhaps a thousand or more, Lord, but they only live in
the forests. You must never go into the forest, Lord, at any rate, not
alone; or onto the island where Heu-Heu lives, for he is their king and
keeps some of them about him.”
“I have no present intention of doing so,” I answered.
Now, as we went, the cliffs receded farther and farther from the river,
till at length they ceased altogether. We were through the lip of the
mountains, if I may so call it, and had entered a stretch of unbroken
virgin forest, a veritable sea of great trees that occupied the rich
land of the plain and grew to an enormous size and tallness. Moreover,
before us appeared clearly the cone of the volcano, broad but of no
great height, over which hung the mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke.
All day long we travelled up this tranquil river, rejoicing in the
comparative brightness in its centre, although, of course, the trees
upon either edge overhung it much.
Late in the afternoon a bend of the banks brought us within sight of a
great sheet of water from which apparently the river issued, although,
as I learned afterwards, it flowed into it upon the other side, from I
know not whence. This lake—for it was a big lake many miles in
circumference—surrounded an island of considerable size, in the centre
of which rose the volcano, now a mere grey-hued mountain that looked
quite harmless, although over it hung that ominous cloud of smoke
which, oddly enough, one could not see issuing from its crest. I
suppose that it must have gone up in steam and condensed into smoke
above. At the foot of the mountain, upon a plain between it and the
lake, with the help of my glasses I could see what looked like
buildings of some size, constructed of black stone or lava.
“They are ruins,” said Issicore, who had observed that I was
examining them. “Once the great city of my forefathers stood yonder
until the fire from the mountain destroyed it.”
“Then does nobody live on the island now?” I asked.
“The priests of Heu-Heu live there, Lord. Also Heu-Heu himself lives
there in a great cave upon the farther side of the mountain, or so it
is said, for none of us has ever visited that cave, and with him some
of the Hairy People who are his servants. My grandfather did so,
however, and saw him there. Indeed, as I have told you, once I saw him
myself; but what he looked like you must not ask me, Lord, for I do not
remember,” he added hastily. “In front of the cave is his garden,
where grows the magic tree of which the Master of Spirits yonder in the
South desires leaves to mix with his medicines: the tree that gives
dreams with long life and vision.”
“Does Heu-Heu eat of this tree?” I asked.
“I do not know, but I know that he eats the flesh of beasts, because of
these we must make offerings to him, and sometimes of men, or so it is
said. Near the foot of the garden burn the eternal fires, and between
them is the rock upon which the offerings are made.”
Now I thought to myself I should much like to see this place of which
it was evident that Issicore knew or would tell very little, where
there was a great cave in which dwelt a reputed demon with his slaves
and hierophants; and where too grew a tree supposed to be magical,
flanked by eternal fires. What were these eternal fires, I wondered. I
could only suppose that they had something to do with the volcano.
As it happened, however, whilst I was preparing to question Issicore
upon the subject, we passed round a tree-clad headland, for here the
river had widened into a kind of estuary, and on the shore of the bay
beyond it discovered a town of considerable size, covering several
hundred acres of ground. The houses of this town, most of which stood
in their own gardens, though some of the smaller ones were arranged in
streets, had an Eastern appearance, inasmuch as they were low and
flat-roofed.
Only there was this difference: Eastern houses of the primitive sort as
a rule are whitewashed, but these were all black, being built of lava,
as I discovered afterwards. All round the town also, except on the lake
side, ran a high wall likewise of black stone, the presence of which
excited my curiosity and caused me to inquire its object.
“It is to defend us from the Hairy Folk who attack by night,”
answered Issicore. “In the daylight they never come, and therefore our
fields beyond are not walled,” and he pointed to a great stretch of
cultivated land that I suppose had been cleared of trees, which
extended for miles into the surrounding forest.
Then he went on to explain that they laboured there while the sun was
up and at nightfall returned to the town, except certain of them who
slept in forts or blockhouses to guard the crops and cattle kraals.
Now I looked at this place and thought to myself that never in my life
had I seen one more gloomy, especially in the late afternoon under a
sullen, rain-laden sky. The black houses, the high black walls that
reminded me of a prison, the black waters of the lake, the outlook on
to the black volcano and the black mass of the forest behind, all
contributed to this effect.
“Oh, Baas, if I lived here I should soon go mad!” said Hans, and
upon my word, I agreed with him.
Now we paddled towards the shore, and presently ran alongside a little
jetty formed of stones loosely thrown together, on which we landed.
Evidently our approach had been observed, for a number of people—forty
or fifty of them, perhaps—were collected at the shore end of the jetty
awaiting us. A glance showed me that although of varying ages and both
sexes, in type they all resembled our guide, Issicore. That is to say,
they were tall, well-shaped, light-coloured and extremely handsome,
also clothed in white robes, while some of the men wore hats of the
Pharaonic type that I have described. The women’s headdress, however,
consisted of a close-fitting linen cap with lappets hanging down on
either side, and was extraordinarily becoming to their severe cast of
beauty. From what race could this people have sprung, I wondered. I had
not the faintest idea; to me they looked like the survivals of some
ancient civilization.
Conducted by Issicore, we advanced, carrying our scanty baggage, a
forlorn and battered little company. As we drew near, the crowd
separated into two lines, men to the right and women to the left, like
the congregation in a very high church, and stood quite silent,
watching us intently with their large, melancholy eyes. Never a word
did they say as we passed between them, only watched and watched till I
felt quite nervous. They did not even offer any greeting to Issicore,
although it seemed to me that he had earned one after his long and
dangerous journey.
I observed, however, although at the time I took little notice of the
matter, and afterwards forgot all about it until Hans brought the
circumstance back to my mind, that a certain dark man of austere
countenance, clothed rather differently from the rest, approached
Issicore, addressed him, and thrust something into his hand. Issicore
glanced at this object, whatever it might be, and distinctly I saw him
tremble and turn pale. Then he hid it away, saying nothing.
Turning to the right, we marched along a roadway that bordered the
lake, which was constructed about twelve feet above its level, perhaps
to serve as a protection against inundation, till we came to a wall in
which was a door built of solid balks of wood. This door opened as we
approached, and, passing it, we found ourselves in a large garden
cultivated with taste and refinement, for in it were beds of flowers,
the only cheerful thing I ever saw in this town that, it appeared, was
named Walloo after the tribe or its ruler. At the end of the garden
stood a long, solid, flat-roofed house built of the prevailing lava
rock.
Entering, we found ourselves in a spacious room which, as dusk was
gathering, was lit with cresset-like lamps of elegant shape placed upon
pedestals cut from great tusks of ivory.
In the centre of this room were two large chairs made of ebony and
ivory with high backs and footstools, and in these chairs sat a man and
a woman who were well worth seeing. The man was old, for his silver
hair hung down upon his shoulders, and his fine, sad face was deeply
wrinkled.
At a glance I saw that he must be the king or chief, because of his
dignified if somewhat senile appearance. Moreover, his robes, with
their purple borders, had a royal look, and about his neck he wore a
heavy chain of what seemed to be gold, while in his hand was a black
staff tipped with gold, no doubt his sceptre. For the rest, his eyes
had a rather frightened air, and his whole aspect gave an idea of
weakness and indecision.
The woman sat in the other chair with the light from one of the lamps
shining full upon her, and I knew at once that she must be the Lady
Sabeela, the love of Issicore. No wonder that he loved her, for she was
beautiful exceedingly; tall, well developed, straight as a reed,
great-eyed, with chiselled features that were yet rounded and womanly,
and wonderfully small hands and feet. She, too, wore purple-bordered
robes. About her waist hung a girdle thickly sewn with red stones that
I took to be rubies, and upon her shapely head, serving as a fillet for
her abundant hair, which flowed down her in long waving strands of a
rich and ruddy hue of brown or chestnut, was a simple golden band.
Except for a red flower on her breast she wore no other ornament,
perhaps because she knew that none was needed.
Leaving us by the door of the chamber, Issicore advanced and knelt
before the old man, who first touched him with his staff and then laid
a land upon his head. Presently he rose, went to the lady and knelt
before her also, whereon she stretched out her fingers for him to kiss,
while a look of sudden hope and joy, which even at that distance I
could distinguish, gathered on her face. He whispered to her for a
while, then turned and began to speak earnestly to her father. At
length he crossed the room, came to me and led me forward, followed by
Hans at my heels.
“O Lord Macumazahn,” he said, “here sit the Walloo, the
Prince of my people, and his daughter, the Lady Sabeela. O Prince my
cousin, this is the white noble famous for his skill and courage, whom
the Wizard of the South made known to me and who at my prayer, out of
the goodness of his heart, has come to help us in our peril.”
“I thank him,” said the Walloo in the same dialect of Arabic that
was used by Issicore. “I thank him in my own name, in that of my
daughter who now alone is left to me, and in the name of my people.”
Here he rose from his seat and bowed to me with a strange and foreign
courtesy such as I had not known in Africa, while the lady also rose
and bowed, or rather curtseyed. Seating himself again, he said,
“Without doubt you are weary and would rest and eat, after which
perchance we may talk.”
Then we were led away through a door at the end of the great room into
another room that evidently had been prepared for me. Also there was a
place beyond for Hans, a kind of alcove. Here water, which I noticed
had been warmed—an unusual thing in Africa—was brought in a large
earthenware vessel by two quiet women of middle age, and with it an
undershirt of beautiful fine linen which was laid upon a bed, or
cushioned couch, that was arranged upon the floor and covered by fur
rugs.
I washed myself, pouring the warm water into a stone basin that was set
upon a stand, and put on the shirt, also the change of clothes that I
had with me, and, with the help of Hans and a pair of pocket scissors,
trimmed my beard and hair. Scarcely had I finished when the women
reappeared, bringing food on wooden platters—roast lamb, it seemed to
be—and with it drink in jars of earthenware that were of elegant shape
and powdered all over with the little rough diamonds of which Zikali
had given me specimens, that evidently had been set in it in patterns
before the clay dried. This drink, by the way was a kind of native
beer, sweet to the taste but pleasant and rather strong, so that I had
to be careful lest Hans should take too much of it.
After we had finished our meal, which was very welcome, for we had
eaten no properly cooked food since we left the wagon, Issicore arrived
and took us back to the large room, where we found the Walloo and his
daughter seated as before, with several old men squatting about them on
the ground. A stool having been set for me the talk began.
I need not enter into all its details, since in substance they set out
what I had already heard from Issicore; namely, that there dwelt
Something or Somebody on the island in the lake who required annually
the sacrifice of a beautiful virgin. This was demanded through the head
priest of a college, also established on the island which acknowledged
the being, real or imaginary, that lived there as its god or fetish.
Further, that creature (if he existed) was said to be the king of all
the Hairy Folk who inhabited the forests. Lastly, there was a legend
that he was the reincarnation of some ancient monarch of the Walloo
folk, who had come to a bad end at the hands of his indignant subjects
at some date undefined. Walloo, it seemed, was their correct name, that
of Heuheua applying only to the Hairy Men of the woods.
This story I dismissed at once, being quite convinced that it was only
a variant of a very common African fable. Doubtless Heu-Heu, if there
really were a Heu-Heu, was the ruler of the savage hairy aboriginals of
the place that once in the far past had been conquered by the invading
Walloo, who poured into the country from the north or west, being
themselves the survivors of some civilized but forgotten people. This
conclusion, I may add, I never found any reason to doubt. Africa is a
very ancient land, and in it once lived many races that have vanished,
or survive only in a debased condition, dwindling from generation to
generation until the day of their extinction comes.
Here I may state briefly the final opinions at which I have arrived
about this people.
Almost certainly these Walloos were such a dying race, hailing, as
names among them seemed to suggest from some region in West Africa,
where their forefathers had been highly civilized. Thus, although they
could not write, they had traditions of writing and even inscriptions
graven upon stones, of which I saw several in a character that I did
not know, though to me it had the look of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Also
they still had knowledge of certain cultured arts such as the weaving
of fine linen, the carving of wood and marble, the making of pottery,
and the smelting of metals with which their land abounded, including
gold that they found in little nuggets in the gravel of the streams.
Most of these crafts, however, were dying out except those that were
necessary to life, such as the moulding of pottery and the building of
houses and walls, and particularly agriculture, in which they were very
proficient. When I saw them all the higher arts were practised only by
very old men. As they never intermarried with any other blood, their
hereditary beauty, which was truly remarkable, remained to them, but
owing to the causes I have mentioned already, the stock was dwindling,
the total population being now not more than half of what it was within
the memory of the fathers of their oldest men. Their melancholy, which
now had become constitutional, doubtless was induced by their gloomy
surroundings and the knowledge that as a race they were doomed to
perish at the hands of the savage aboriginals who once had been their
slaves.
Lastly, although they retained traces of some higher religion, since
they made prayer to a Great Spirit, they were fetish-ridden and
believed that they could continue to exist only by making sacrifice to
a devil who, if they neglected to do so, would crush them with
misfortunes and give them over to destruction at the hands of the
dreadful Forest-dwellers. Therefore they, or a section of them, became
the priests of this devil called Heu-Heu, and thereby kept peace
between them and the Hairy Men.
Nor was this the end of their troubles, since, as Issicore had told me,
these priests, after the fashion of priests all the world over, now
aspired to the absolute rule of the race, and for this reason plotted
the extinction of the hereditary chief and all his family.
Such, in substance, was the lugubrious story that the unhappy Walloo
poured into my ears that night, ending it in these words,
“Now you will understand, O Lord Macumazahn, why in our extremity and
in obedience to the ancient prophecy, which has come down to us from
our fathers, we communicated with the great Wizard of the South, with
whom we had been in touch in ancient days, praying him to send us the
helper of the prophecy. Behold, he has sent you and now I implore you
to save my daughter from the fate that awaits her. I understand that
you will require payment in white and red stones, also in gold and
ivory. Take as much as you want. Of the stones there are jars full
hidden away and the fences of some of my courtyards at the back of this
house are made of tusks of ivory, though it is black with age, and I
know not how you would carry it hence. Also there is a quantity of gold
melted into bars, which my grandfather caused to be collected, whereof
we make little use except now and again for women’s ornaments, but
that, too, would be heavy to carry across the desert. Still, it is all
yours. Take it. Take everything you wish, only save my daughter.”
“We will talk of the reward afterwards,” I said, for my heart was
touched at the sight of the old man’s grief. “Meanwhile, let me
hear what can be done.”
“Lord, I do not know,” he answered, wringing his hands. “The
third night from this is that of full moon, the full moon which marks
the beginning of harvest. On that night we must carry my daughter, on
whom the lot has fallen, to the island in the lake where stands the
smoking mountain and bind her to the pillar upon the Rock of Offering
that is set between the two undying fires. There we must leave her, and
at the dawn, so it is said, Heu-Heu himself seizes her and carries her
into his cavern, where she vanishes for ever. Or, if he does not come,
his priests do, to drag her to the god, and we see her no more.”
“Then why do you take her to the island? Why do you not call your
people together and fight and kill this god or his priests?”
“Lord, because not one man among us, save perhaps Issicore yonder, who
can do nothing alone, would lift a hand to save her. They believe that
if they did the mountain would break into flames, as happened in the
bygone ages, turning all upon whom the ashes fell into stone; also that
the waters would rise and destroy the crops, so that we must die of
starvation, and that any who escaped the fire and the water and the
want would perish at the hands of the cruel Wood-devils. Therefore, if
I ask the Walloos to save the maiden from Heu-Heu, they will kill me
and give her up in accordance with the law.”
“I understand,” I said, and was silent.
“Lord,” went on the old Walloo presently, “here with me you
are safe, for none of my people will harm you or those with you. But I
learn from Issicore that you have stabbed a Hairy Man with a knife, and
that your servant slew one of their women with the strange weapons that
you carry. Therefore, from the Wood-devils you are not safe, for, if
they can, they will kill you both and feast upon your bodies.”
“That’s cheerful,” I thought to myself, but made no further
answer, for I did not know what to say.
Just then the Walloo rose from his chair, saying that he must go to
pray to the spirits of his ancestors to help him, but that we would
talk again upon the morrow. After this he bade us good-night and
departed without another word, followed by the old men, who all this
while had sat silent, only nodding their heads from time to time like
porcelain images of Chinese mandarins.